Written by
William Allingham |
I heard the dogs howl in the moonlight night;
I went to the window to see the sight;
All the Dead that ever I knew
Going one by one and two by two.
On they pass'd, and on they pass'd;
Townsfellows all, from first to last;
Born in the moonlight of the lane,
Quench'd in the heavy shadow again.
Schoolmates, marching as when they play'd
At soldiers once - but now more staid;
Those were the strangest sight to me
Who were drown'd, I knew, in the awful sea.
Straight and handsome folk, bent and weak, too;
Some that I loved, and gasp'd to speak to;
Some but a day in their churchyard bed;
Some that I had not known were dead.
A long, long crowd - where each seem'd lonely,
Yet of them all there was one, one only,
Raised a head or look'd my way;
She linger'd a moment - she might not stay.
How long since I saw that fair pale face!
Ah! Mother dear! might I only place
My head on thy breast, a moment to rest,
While thy hand on my tearful cheek were prest!
On, on, a moving bridge they made
Across the moon-stream, from shade to shade,
Young and old, women and men;
Many long-forgot, but remembered then,
And first there came a bitter laughter;
A sound of tears a moment after;
And then a music so lofty and gay,
That eve morning, day by day,
I strive to recall it if I may.
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Written by
Du Fu |
1000 home mountain suburb quiet morning light One day river tower sit green hill Two nights fishermen still float float Clear autumn swallow old fly fly Kuang Heng submit memorial achieve rank little Liu Xiang transmit classic heart affair apart Schoolmates early years many not poor 5 tombs furs horse self light fat A mountain suburb of a thousand homes in the quiet morning light, All day I sit by the river in my tower on the green hill. For two nights the fishermen have stayed there floating, floating, In the clear autumn still the swallows fly and fly. Kuang Heng submitted memorials; I've won little praise, Liu Xiang passed on the classics; my wishes are not realised. The schoolmates of my early years mostly are not poor, In the five tomb towns their furs and horses light and fat.
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Written by
Emily Dickinson |
God permits industrious Angels --
Afternoons -- to play --
I met one -- forgot my Schoolmates --
All -- for Him -- straightway --
God calls home -- the Angels -- promptly --
At the Setting Sun --
I missed mine -- how dreary -- Marbles --
After playing Crown!
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